Well I woke up this morning

The place was such a reck

I couldn't reach the bathroom

Thought I'd better clear the deck

I tried to call the lawyer

And ask him what to do

He referred me to his doctor

Who referred me back to you

And when you checked the manual

You kept in side the case

It said 'put it in a cool dry place'



I drove around the city

Looking for a room

That was high above the water

Where my things could be in tune

There was no one to help me

Nobody even cared

I had to got through hell

To get those things up there

I paid my first subscription

Then I joined the idle race

and they said 'store it in a cool dry place'



I got guitar, basses, amplifiers and drums

Accordions and mandolis and things that sometimes hum

Cymbals and harmonicas, capos by the score

And lots of things in boxes laying all around the floor



Some places they get mildew

And others get too hot

Some places are so damp that

Everything you got just rots

All kinds of condensation

Directories of the rain

There's not much compensation

When everything's been stained

Some have sentimental value that

Cannot be erased

Go store it in a cool dry place



We got solids and acoustics

And some from flowered board

And some are trimmed in leather

And some are made with gourds

There's organs and trombones

And reverbs we can use

Lots of dx-7s

And old athletic shoes

I bought a great big building

It took up one whole block

I made an inventory

Of all the things in stock

The place was getting longer

I was up all night

I used up all my pencils

But I went onto spite

The blury of my vision

The sweat upon my face

I've got to put this stuff away

I mustn't leave a trace

The landlord's breathing down my neck

He say's it's a disgrace

So I said 'put it in a cool, dry, place.'